Contract
by maleV
Summary: AU:RE Chris and Piers are on opposing sides. NIVANFIELD
1. Prelude

**Time for some snark, weeeeeeee!**

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Chris swallowed, his eyes scanning the room, his eyes landing on each hand in the room. Seemed that if you kept your eyes on the hands you know who's carrying and who isn't, and if they aren't carrying then they aren't a threat. At least that's how logic went. But he wasn't concerned with who was carrying weapons, half the people here were, what he was concerned about was who was carrying what biological experimental drug, antidote, virus, or otherwise. B.S.A.A. had been instructed to oversee this last conference along with thirty other potential private security firms. The chances of anything happening, minimal, but then whenever had that mattered? He sighed, scanning again starting at the left side of the room as he circulated in a cross pattern, making certain to keep his hands free from the glasses being passed around. No one was suppose to have unregistered weapons, or containment cases for their samples. Seemed that they all checked out accordingly. His eyes passed to one, Jill Valentine, the woman giving a confirmation bow of the head that signaled her end all clear. Another deep breath out. His feet took him toward the coat closet, check for anything hidden he might have had the opportunity to miss, but was stopped when he ran into what felt like to him a wall of similar build to his own, instantly backing up to apologize to whichever private sector bozo had paraded clear into him only to feel shock overwhelm him. He blinked absentmindedly, his mouth catching up with his eyes as he came to the realization that the person he'd bumped into hadn't been sent reeling like the last anyone who had ever ran into him, in fact he just stood there, a smile plastered at the corners of bow shaped lips that tugged the longer he stared until he brought his eyes up to meet hazel, gold flecks causing a hitch in his throat he hadn't expected. "Sorry..." No weapons, no sample, no anything except for two drinks, one in each hand, and a killer half lidded gaze that had him unable to look away for the red creeping into his face for letting a man Chris' size thud into a kid who kept his balance and held onto his glasses. might have had something to with the rhythmic sashay of his hips when he slipped around someone else who threatened the bustle around them, but Chris hardly noticed the rest of the room for a few seconds longer, just staring and uttering an apology. He ran through the list of names, by age in his head that should have been there, the slight cant of the head and cock of his brow indicating how amused the kid was just standing there, letting Chris fumble.

"Piers."

"Pierce..., sorry didn't mean to bump into you like that." Chris was still staring fingering his pant leg as he went over the list again in his head, all the more bemusement etching in those sharp piercing eyes that held him locked in place rather than doing his job. He knew better than to stop and talk, but they were told to be polite. Not polite enough apparently as the kid held out one of his glasses for him, waiting for Chris to take it. Some kind of Vermouth... He gave a nod and smiled, waiting for a cheers but never receiving one and instead downing the drink. Plopping it down on a passing tray carried by some caterer's waitress who had to swirl to keep the glass upright when he smacked it down. They weren't suppose to drink on the job but hell if he didn't need one with the way those eyes were boring into him. "Thanks.." There was a flutter of the eyelids and and of course, kind of nod, holding the other one out to him as though it were only natural. He was still coming up short on the name, resisting reaching out and taking the second glass until he tipped it silently in his direction, regarding him to just take it. Relenting he took the glass, his fingers grazing the younger man's briefly and he all but felt his heart skip and the way the kid's smile spread, tucking a free hand in his hip that he all but jut on purpose slightly forward than the rest of him. "Hope I didn't jar you... I mean running into you like that."

"You didn't." It was so matter-of-fact, common place mistake like it didn't bother him at all, shrugging his shoulders while openly scanning Chris' impressive form, from his massive shoulders and to his immense straining biceps, accented by the shirt that he wore that was far too tight, and feeling so much more so the longer the kid's eyes pooled on his taut abs. "B.S.A.A. right? They sure didn't use the cookie cutter when they made you did they?" He chuckled in a soft tenor, completely blatant about it while Chris' eyes widened, feeling completely undressed by this kids eyes, swallowing back a thanks, while his fingers clenched into fists to keep from doing anything else, like grabbing another martini off one of the passing plates. "How much can you press? A pack of elephants?" He snickered when Chris let out an uncomfortable laugh his eyes drifting lower until they stopped and brazenly locked on his thick hips and what lay between them, sucking in his cheek in a way that made Chris hurt under his stare.

"So Pierce... what are you hear for."

"Piers."

"Yeah that's what I said, Pierce, like James Bond." Chris watched as eyes finally flicked up, able to take a breath now that they were back on his stubbled jaw before the staring gained him view to the erection he was certain he was starting to sport after that five minute long once over. The way he sucked in his cheek like that reminded Chris of an action he shouldn't let his mind wander to. "Your dad like 007?" His eyes scanned the room quickly, unable to really search anywhere properly before drawing them quickly back to the kid in front of him. Twenty-one, maybe twenty-two... it was possible he was older,... there was flirtatious amusement again in his eyes, knowing some underlying joke that he obviously wasn't in on, except being the punchline. "Who are you with?" That earned him a laughed into the back of slim fingers, Chris immediately catching the mistake and gritting his teeth, noting the callouses on his fingers and distinct way he held his hand. "I mean... I meant," urgh, he felt like a complete moron. Since when was he a high school girl unable to turn his words out the right way just because he was getting eyed up by some kid. And when he said kid he meant it, he had skin like velvet he bet, and that dart of the tongue, wetting his pouty lower tier every time looked up form under his own downward cast head. Finally snarling unintentionally, "You know what I meant!" He realized how loud he'd been when half the room turned, immediately apologizing and running his hand over the back of his neck again, feeling his fingers up his scalp, along with the eyes of every person in the room. Pierce was snickering quietly and gave a wave off to the next person that walked by with glasses. That gave it away... he wasn't with security... the caterers knew who to serve and if they were handing him drinks it meant he was a guest. Virologist? This kid? No way... No one by the name Pierce on that list either... someone's kid then? Jill would know. He watched the eyes wander again, locking again on his waist, quirking a brow completely unabashed.

"Samurai Edge? That's a bit old fashion even for you B.S.A.A. boys isn't it?" Without hesitation, he slipped closer, an arm wrapping around Chris' waist, holding them together loosely before fingers pulled away the gun that had been tucked away at the small of Chris' back, holding it with a familiar ease and weighing it in his hand before lightning quick reflexes snapped up and pulled it away, earning him a glower. Hands held up innocently. "Sorry, didn't mean to offend you captain... Just expected something a little younger on a captain your age." Fuck... that innuendo went straight to Chris' groin their bodies almost flush together from how he'd reached around, his hands dropping back to push his hip out, canting his head to the side and letting it sink in as a completely intentional flirt, before shrugging. "Course that's none of my business I suppose," stepping back as people began to stare he made a respectable distance between them, though the only thing acceptable would have been pushing him into that coat closet and having his way with him. "I didn't mean to put you off captain. It was just an impressive piece that's all." Oh please stop talking... Chris swallowed and gave a nod of his own, feeling the swing of things as he raised a brow of his own, finally resigning to playing this game. If this kid was completely willing and wanted to flirt then who was stopping Chris.

"It is... Packs a punch too. Would have holstered it, but its too big."

The younger man let a full out smile take his features, perfectly kissable lips curling at the corners while he leaned forward, whispering in the quiet air between all the dull roar around them. "I don't know about that captain, fit in my hand just right. Then again, I'm use to handling the big guns." He smirked until turning his head, genuine interest in one of the men walking passed him catching those radiant eyes from Chris' tensing frame. Before grabbing a glass from one of the ladies, and placing it himself into Chris' hand, curling his fingers around the captain's and patting his forearm once before releasing him. "Nice to meet you captain." There was no decent good bye, no anything more than that, and he was gone, walking beside the man that had pattered passed them at a hurried pace, Chris finally exhaling a breath that he'd been clutching in his barrel of lungs for the last eternity that it seemed he had been under the scrutiny of those eyes. After a few more seconds his legs remembered how to walk, throwing back the drink down his throat that did nothing for him other than take the edge off, he went in search of Jill. By the time he found her, she smiled and waved him over, leaned against a wall and nudging another agent to be on his way. Before it dawned on him, if he didn't know Riley as a person, he wouldn't have known the man talking with Jill was an agent, let alone B.S.A.A. or what his rank was. That kid knew exactly who Chris was without a second glance, well.. there were glances but they certainly weren't the kind meant for crowded rooms. Those were bedroom eyes meant only for getting down and dirty and he would have committed a thousand sins with that kid if they had had any more time together. Handle the big guns his ass, what a line.

"What's the matter big guy?"

She threw him a lopsided smile, brushing her brown hair away from her face, watching Chris huff. "Ran into a kid... knew me by rank and association..." He thought of it a second, but couldn't stop thinking about those lips and how they'd played with his words when Chris had finally remembered how to speak. He was so pretty, and the structure of his build. Now that he thought about it he really couldn't imagine him being anything but an invited assistant. "Only got a first name on him, Pierce... There weren't any scientists on the list by that first name, and he was way too young for that anyway. Maybe twenty-three..."

"What you didn't ask when you stopped to check him out?" She fought to snicker until the resounding gun shot rang through the hall, spurring them both through the room, Jill's hands immediately flashing rank on them to push the crowd away. "Move aside! Everyone get back, Trev get the door." She shot a look at Chris seeing the body laying splayed on the coat room floor, with one shot straight through the the back into his chest, face down. Face down or not though, Chris placed the face. His mind flashing back at the way the younger man had turned his head away from his naturally vested conversation, his hand flying to his back, the place where his samurai edge had been nudged in place gone, looking around the room spinning. Catching startling hazel eyes by the door, giving a wink and a salute using Chris' gun before he fled him. Disappearing out the door. He was on the door in a second, throwing it back and revealing a hall stuffed to the brim with patrons, scanning but not finding.

"DAMNIT!"


	2. The Set Up

**Not sure I like this chapter but I don't like most my stuff! Hope you enjoy it anyway! That's the point : )**_  
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_Damnit! Damn it, damnit, DAMN! Chris gulping and tugging the body out of the water, his own soaking wet as he pulled the more lithe, limp form into his lap. God he was drenched and completely limp. What had he been thinking?! Swallowing, Chris put his ear to those soft lips, listening for breath with the warm wetness clinging them together. Their clothes drenched and retaining water, making them both easily twice as heavy as they should have been. His fingers running up the back of his neck and slicking his hair back Chris tried to think rationally about what he was doing, the decision made for him before pulling the younger man up under his arms along the bank, climbing over those slimmer hips and immediately crushing his lips over those... blue... dead ones. He hadn't cared in those few seconds that the kid was a contract killer that he'd been hunting for months, that he was better off dead. It was just instinct. After having seen the body fall into the water, there was not an ounce of hesitation, horror gripping his entire frame as he dove head first after him, scooping him up. Both of them were in heavy gear, weighing them down in the water, and with the younger man unconscious, those lips sucking in lungs full of water and succumbing to demise;the B.S.A.A. agent dredged him out with urgency. Chris' chest heaved, his gun disregarded on the side of the lake, along with all his sanity. "Come on kid, breath..." he winced, watching for hazel eyes sparkling with fire to flick open and give him one of those lusty little glances that he'd gotten so use to seeing. "Damn it..." How had this happened? Chris lurched forward again, gasping a deep breath into his own saturated lungs, berating himself for working so hard to save this kid before sealing his lips over Piers, breathing down deep into his chest forcing oxygen to pump out a gurgle of water and air; bubbled up from in seizing lungs. The body in his arms pitched forward, turning to the side and hurling up the clear water that had invaded his body unwillingly, a wracking coughing stealing over him as he spat up mouthfuls of water. He was so close Chris could smell the clean shampoo that accented that naturally appealing scent of his body, slick wet clothing against his own broad expanse of a chest, instinctively wrapping his arms around the smaller frame earning a damaged laugh. "Damn kid, thought I'd lost you there..." Why he'd cared, he didn't know, but after clutching him there a moment, feeling the fine contours of Piers shaking in his burly arms, body in those tight water drenched clothes, he felt his entire body react when the press of those pillowy lips found his own. Amazingly warm and slick driving every thought from his mind except that they were alive, he was alive. They were deliciously devouring one another lethargically, tasting all the warm moisture between them. Their bodies, sopping wet but somehow it just made it more passionate, feeling every hard muscle and solid form of straining taut bodies melting into one another. The accenting wetness of their clothing only made it more obvious the longer they spent locked together, how every second was making those pants cling to his bulging muscled thighs and what lay between, outlining every part of them like a second skin. God, feeling those deft fingers diving into his pants while their lips fought for dominance, had Chris' mind blank out what he was suppose to be doing. They were soaking wet and everything clinging to them, drops falling from the short ends of Chris' cropped hair to drop and line olive toned features; grateful strokes made easier from the wetness of their bodies. He was there laying on the ground with Chris' arms under his shoulders, cupping the back of that gorgeous head, crushing their lips together, with his fingers knowingly working Chris just how he'd imagined. Experience and patience working through every well timed tug. Turning him in to Jill for interrogation was gone... He'd just killed a man and Chris couldn't care less, just those fingers wrapping around his cock and jerking him off achingly slow, with their lips locked, talented tongues massaging each other until Chris couldn't see anything but white stars and was groaning into Piers' mouth._

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_4months later..._

"You know we have to stop meeting this way captain..." The younger man smirked, his hip popped to the side, well fitting fatigues hugging his hips and thighs with customized rigging and a tight black shirt that accented every muscle in his lithe frame. Chris had gotten well use to the look, kid made certain every time they met that Chris' was given full access to the view. The last five missions he'd been on, his target was taken out just before he arrived and his contacts all dead. High caliber rifle rounds that could have, and _had_ taken the heads clean off the men he had been in charge of reporting to. This made the twelfth body. Chris wasn't letting the sniper escape again. He hadn't been kidding when he said he knew how to handle the big guns, that rifle he carried was major overkill for the targets he sighted, but then... all those targets were intentionally Chris.' And there he was with those fingers wrapped loving around the barrel of his pristine anti-material rifle clutched in his hands, stroking it lovingly as Chris stepped cautiously closer, curling his fingers in an all too reminiscent manner. "What's the matter captain... still trying to get your gun back? I promise, I put it in a very safe place. Besides, you weren't giving it enough attention. You just need to learn where to put it..." That damnable flirtatious tone, leaked into his voice, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip to draw attention to it, Chris swallowing the lump in his throat, reminding himself again to bring his eyes back up from those hands working magic on that weapon. Kid had ghosted him on too many occasions because of his inability to watch his movements properly. This was too goo a chance of catching him go simply because they were in so deep together that it hurt, and because Chris couldn't think with his proper head. "I could teach you if you like captain, trust me. I never miss."

Chris snarled, baring his teeth, "That so Piers?" A not so shocked expression slipped over those fine features, lifting his one hand to clap it gently against the other, the butt of his rifle resting on the ground with its shaft in the crook of his arm. "Yeah, yeah, I got that after the last one you left. Wouldn't it have been easier for you to just write it out for me?" Rolling determinedly annoyed eyes, at the heavy lidded gaze that raised in slight bemusement to Chris' expense while the great hulk of a man tried not to get tongue tangled again with his stalker. Piers had a way with words that just made him fumble at a loss over even the simplest of sentences, and every word well placed innuendo went straight to his groin. He'd stopped being able to look at him straight when they had crushed their lips together like they were meant to be back at the lake. Now all he could envision was how half choked with water they'd fused into one another like wax. It didn't look good on a captain, being so attached his his rival in the field, particularly since he'd been ghosted by this kid almost a half dozen times already. The only reason they were here now was because Chris had failed to report that incident between them to the higher ups. They didn't look high on his efforts to catch Piers having failed so many times, or the way he kept most the information pertaining to this case to himself. It wouldn't have looked good though for them to know how extensively this younger man had so thoroughly woven himself into Chris' character. After the last time... waking up with blood on the side of his head and a killer headache beside the lake, when they'd all but... This looked even worse on him when it was done because every time he got close he was getting trapped in relentless badgering from those perfect bowed tiers of his that curled every time Chris started thinking too much forcing him to explain to his superiors that he had been had once again by someone he could have fathered in high school. Like now... Those quirked lips were beautiful, and had that hypnotic way of parting just enough to reveal the way his tongue darted out to wet them, showing the tiny glint of silver stud. He'd been leaving little clues on the bodies he left behind for Chris to find, like presented to teach Chris all his little secrets. The first two were just teasers for him to get the attention that someone was killing people involved with the B.S.A.A. There had been nothing to find one those, except the skill it took to take them out, information in its own that had pointed to some over the top experienced person probably Chris' age looking to get even. It had been the empty holster, custom made for his samurai edge that had been the give away of who was leaving him the bodies, but that hadn't been until the third specialist had been taken out. The name hadn't come until he left the last one on a dock with a copy of the best of 007 DVDs tucked on the inside of his jacket. "You know I can think of less subtle ways for you to have told me your name.

"I thought it was kind cute watching you struggle through it. Honestly Captain, have you ever done a cross word in your life?"

"Not one where five across meant the number of bodies you decided to leave behind with only the damn dock being the clue. You aren't running off this time Piers. Your mine."

"Yours?... Really? And here I thought you didn't want me captain." The younger killer raised a brow, his fingers sliding down his own well built abdomen to tug up his black shirt, the hem showing a flash of olive skin when he hooking his thumb on dark fatigues and dragging them down slowly in the front, his eyes locked with the captain's that couldn't help but be instantly drawn to the teasing flesh, his naval now showing and the trail of tawny hair. The lower he tugged the span of material the harder it was becoming to remember what words had already passed in their conversation, until the fresh scar of a bullet hole was revealed where Chris had nailed him from across the lake. Thank god there was a span of twenty feet between them or else his hands would have torn the rest of his clothing off him against his will so he could suck on the tingly fresh tissue. Kid was purely hypnotic the way he moved, so rhythmic and constant where Chris was all man of action and no hesitation. "After the last time we saw each other... I wasn't sure you'd want to see me again, since I left before the happy finish. I really hope you took care of that by the way, you know not tending to one's needs can be detrimental to their health." Smiling he lifted his hand, the clothing hugging him so tight it was easy to see the taut well sculpted frame beneath, the muscled V that pointed teasingly to his crotch and letting the suggestions flow when his own eyes, fixed on him as they were, dropped on Chris' groin. His voice pouted, chewing the corner of his lip, "You aren't still mad at me..., are you?"

"No." Chris was speaking indignantly as though that should be obvious before he could even think that what he'd said sounded petty, not to mention inaccurate, just to appease those pouted lips,the urge to kiss them overwhelming. WHAT?! Damn it Chris! Of course he was mad, the least the kid could have done was wait until Chris had got off before pistol whipping him out cold. The captain shook his head, hearing that musical laughter again so sweat in his ears. Swallowing hard and wishing dearly that he just let him drown all those weeks ago so that he'd be spared this humiliation. Now all he could think about is what those fingers could do, those ones stroking his scope and the muzzle of his rifle so suggestively. "You're coming with me Piers."

"Oh but captain... I thought you enjoyed cumming _for_ me."

He was stalling.. "Who are you Piers?" Chris took another step, trying to force his eyes up to Piers face from the way he was shifting every time Chris would take a step, canting his head to one side. Damn it how did this kid get so good there had to be a reason? He knew very well that from the beginning Piers hadn't said anything that was superfluous. Apart from the flirts he'd all but told Chris who he was, and yet he still couldn't comprehend why the kid was doing this. Why he'd chosen Chris the target of his malice... if that's what it could be called. They couldn't even peg who he was and of Chris' long list of enemies there wasn't a single person with that unique a name. He'd even cross checked the name with referenced locations he'd been, in case it hadn't been a name but a vengeance that had happened someplace specific. Taking a deep breath he opened his mouth watching the curls of smoke that matched the coils of his breath, snorting once. Striding in his huge boots, thick brows furrowed, finding the right forward motion to cross another five feet, Piers not even hedging in his position to move whatsoever.

"I'm insulted captain... I thought by now you surely would have figured it out. I'll give you one more clue, but if you can't get it by then... I'll put an end to this game, and put a bullet through your eye." Hand clutching the butt of his gun, rubbing the grip with his thumb, Chris felt the weight of those words heavy in the air between them, no playful hinting or chattering there except the full force of the threat behind them. Kid was an amazing shot, he'd seen him in action when they 'raced' to a target. Chris had won the race in speed, but Piers had flipped up his rifle in a full out run and nailed the shot without stopping his stride from almost a mile away. The gun felt strange in his hand, a 9-0-9. Standard issue from the B.S.A.A. but Chris still wasn't happy he'd been forced to part with his own thanks to this younger man. It was heavy and felt good in his hand, but so had his samurai edge. Letting it go, he lifted his stubbled jaw to examine the younger man in front of him closing another five feet between them, the rifle butt still plastered to the ground and Piers canting his head with a raised brow, curiosity floating at the front of those enchanting eyes before Chris took another step.  
"Do you want your clue _captain_?" A slow sturdy nod that took almost a minute to finish worked through Chris, his body taking the time to adjust to a defensive stance, putting his weight into those tree trunk, muscled thighs and down to grow roots in the ground. Nine feet and a few inches between them and the only thing signalling either of them to move was when the Piers fingers suddenly stopped moving over the cool metal of his rifle, both of them instantly on each other.

Two steps and Chris threw a punch that was easily ducked, that limber waistline bent as that slimmer body moved on its heel to avoid the hit, turning out from Chris' rotation to swing a leg almost as high as his head that Chris was forced to dodge the same manner, throwing a bull's rush of his great fist toward the air where Piers had stepped around, a back handed fist aimed at the side of his head. They were hitting nothing but air, forceful moves accented by charismatic dodges until finally Chris' leg collided when he kicked into those taut oblique muscles, countered just as quickly when an arm hooked his calf, turning into Chris and colliding a right hook into his ear, boxing his senses. Shooting Chris wouldn't have stopped him at this point, the adrenaline giving him a burst to grab the fist that hit him, only to feel his balance returned as Piers dropped his leg and all but used the leverage to throw himself up and around Chris' back, the hands holding onto that limber fist used as a support to slip his leg up and around Chris' shoulder, grappling a hold while they both came tumbling down. Ankles crossed to close Chris' windpipe while the older man fell on his back, throwing a fist backward into those taut abdominal muscles that took Chris' beating with impressive fortitude. That hunkering bulging muscled elbow flew down a third time, finally relenting with the sound Chris could only attribute to a cracking rib, both rolling onto their toes and fingers before colliding with one another, Chris taking the upper hand in weight and jarring the younger man down under him. Thighs over his torso, trapping arms crossed under his weight, Chris pinned Piers under those war worked muscles, flexing to compensate whenever he felt weight pitch form side to side. Damn it this kid knew every punch before it came. "What's the matter old man, not enough Viagra this morning?" The words came out in a huff, feet clad in combat boots giving a shove off the ground for support before both knees crammed into that sturdy back, throwing Chris' weight forward enough to the slimmer body under him to slide out between his legs, rolling onto his stomach in a barrel roll, throwing his weight back onto Chris' back, forearms locking around his neck and a knee slipping behind his back, bending him over backward with his balance held on a prince like bow with Chris bent back over that one leg threatening to crack either neck or spine in one jerk. "Or maybe the dementia has finally kicked in from all those hits to the head you took over the years. Go ahead captain, tell me you don't remember this." The hand not busy gripped the holster around Chris' fatigues, the 9-0-9 safety clicking as the gun slipped against the back of his skull, grinding the muzzle into dark brown tendrils. "Still don't remember me?"

Piers seemed incredulous over Chris' silence, dropping the leg that held Chris' form up so that he smacked down on his spine with a resounding thud, the younger man lurching to his feet, the gun clicking into pieces within seconds, parts thrown to the side as hands came back up, flicking with two fingers for Chris to get back up, curling into fists. Weight on his coiled, poised fists, forcing his weight up with a shove of those great bulging forearms; hunching down and raising fists to lurch forward again. Christ the kid was fast, but Chris was physically stronger, all he needed was one well placed hit where Piers needed to wear him down. But where on earth had he learned those moves, his counters were perfect partners to each other. Every move, every new step was in rhythm and time with his own. Chris was starting to sweat, and it was apparent that Pier was wearing from blocking relentless thundering fists, beating down on him. Forearms slimmer than his own but no less muscled met his own, slipped together to make an X, using the crook to shove down the force of Chris' punch, knees meeting each other as their moves synced completely. Piers' style changing until they mirrored each other, like Chris was fighting himself. Unhappily the smaller frame relented under the Chris' superior strength, but it was evident from his expression of concentration that he wasn't turning back now that they were locked there, swinging at each other until finally they both stumbled backward. Chris felt a punch to his face already bruising, having gotten somewhere along the line, but the one on Piers' features was already dark, swelling.

"Goddamnit Piers, why are you doing this?" Chris was gasped in air, watching Piers' hands find his knees, mimicking the motion to get some fresh oxygen into his own tired lung, before shaking his head, stumbling back into stance and swallowing. "Kid... come on just tell me, you're fallen on your- " Halfway through the sentence a limber kick spun into his chest, huge rough palms catching it, throwing him off balance with a shove before the other leg swung, landing in Chris' broad side, knocking the wind from his chest before he saw the drawn weapon, hands slipping with ease over the grip guard of Chris' missing samurai edge, which had been firmly tucked away on the inside of those fine riggings he sported. "Fine, enough fooling around!" Bar room brawl was Chris' forte. Hunching down he threw his larger frame into Piers, knocking the man completely off his feet, and impaling him on that massive shoulder, taking them both down to the ground, reeling a right hook that would have snapped his neck if it landed, stayed only by the muzzle of his own gun planted between dark brow eyes. "Good, no more games. How about it kid, tell me, why are you doing this?" Snarled lips twisted, anger flaring in the usually very stoic eyes that flashed resentment, fingers tightening viciously around the trigger of his weapon, threatening to release the bullet through Chris' cranium. _Click!_ Nothing. Chris smirked, his fist careening with pretty soft features, snapping his head to the side, fingers gripping the butt of his gun. Not loaded... "That's right kid... no more games."

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**Something off about that, who can guess what...**


	3. The Mark

"He's not talking..."

"What did you expect?" Grinding his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets to relieve some of the pressure that was blinding his head, Chris grit his teeth, allowing himself a breath that filled the entire expanse of that enormous ribcage, his pectorals rising and falling with each one as Jill stared at him expectantly from across the table. "It took me how long just to find the kid, let alone catch him... You really want to tell me you expected him to gush all his private secrets simply because we finally put the lean on him?" It seemed more than unreasonable that she would expect Piers to talk after only a few hours. He wondered who they got to try to work the information out of him and which style they had decided upon. There was the nice guy routine. Where someone would go at him with the intention of getting secrets traded for kindness. Sometimes that worked, other times it left too much to be desired. Particularly since it never got out everything you wanted and it left you the scenario of appearing vulnerable to an enemy if they thought you were weak. There was also the nice guy routine where they would talk about nothing and see what he would open up about given the option of simply having some conversation after hours of silence. The kind Chris was best at was brutality. Beat the shit out of them until they'd confessed every single thing to them and you were only sure they'd given in it all up once they started sobbing. But putting him in a room with Piers would have been a poor choice. With their history it was more likely to cause trouble for himself than for Piers, and yes it might have been easier, he was sure the kid didn't want to talk to anyone though. Why would he, since it seemed Chris failed his little test. He never did figure out who he was, even with all the so called hints he'd thrown at him. He'd stay out of it with every intention of never again looking on the kid again. He couldn't really take the idea of someone beating Piers into submission. "Have you taken finger prints? Blood? Any information to be had there?" Burying his face in his hands, he tried boring the image out of his head with more questions. "He's quick witted, he's probably going to talk circles around whoever you sent in there..."

"You mean like he did to you?" Jill rose a brow, watching Chris' head snap up, contempt written there. "What!? He spent the last few months talking you out of your comfort zone. Its not an unreasonable statement. Still... he's not talking. I thought he would have opened up like a chatter box since he enjoys yapping at you so much, but I'm not joking, kid hasn't opened his mouth once to explain himself. We checked the finger prints. The results came in only a few minutes ago..."

"Which is why you called me up here?"

Jill slowly nodded, holding out a file for him. "His name is Piers Nivans. Only son of Major Dean Nivans. Runs the army's black ops crew. I gave him a call. Get this, his response was 'take care of the body when you're done.' Wants nothing to do with his kid at all. He was the top rated sniper for the army until he dropped out a year after signing up. No one knew why. He was on leave and went AWOL. No one heard from him since. Get this one... he's two weeks from turning twenty-one. We've been bested by a twenty year old kid Chris. I need you to go talk to him." Jill watched him stare at the file, his brow furrowing briefly, moving it aside with the back of his hand. "What? He's not talking to anyone else Chris. There is absolutely no reasoning for what he's doing. No dead family members, no nothing. A stunning record for the military, but its all under lock and key. The only thing we know about this kid is he applied twice for the B.S.A.A., both rejected because of his age. Both signed off, by you." She shrugged before sliding the paperwork toward him again across the table persistently, watching his shoulders begin to slump in resignation, leaving all her work there and ignoring it before heading toward the door, his fingers on the brass door handle letting out a huff. "Do what you do best if you have to Chris. We need to know who he was working for. Despite all those kills being made because they were connected with you, those were all sanctioned hits. We need to know who's paying him, where he's getting his targets from. You know the drill." Brown hair flowed over her shoulders, the tight pony tail pulled to her scalp and her bangs slowly growing out after a poor choice to cut them two months ago, "I don't need to tell you twice Chris, higher ups want that information. Anything you have to do, do it."

Kill him? Strolling through the hallways he felt a bit tighten in his chest, stopping at the door to interrogation to collect himself. Piers was his enemy yes, but he was also his rival, and without having realized when it happened, he was also his love interest. Twenty? A military brat, twenty years old had all but made him... Urgh, that made his head spin. He let a juvenile make him that anxious? Well, at least he had information to go off of now. He still didn't know anything about him, a past life the kid was obviously unhappy with so he changed it, but that's like saying Chris' own history with the Airforce had anything to do with the man he was now. He understood that much. And if he had no relationship with his father there was nothing tying him to being here. Unless there was a whole chunk of something they were missing. He wanted to know, even if the higher ups just wanted to know who was shelling out the cash for his stalker. Finally opening the door, his imposing being merely taking in the room, his eyes fell on the younger man in the chair. His head was hung and there was blood splatter on the stainless steel table that told of the punishment he was receiving before they called in Chris. So they had hit him. Something curled Chris' fist that reminded him of the instinctive need to bury his knuckles in Wesker's head, but brushed it off, throwing the door shut behind himself before anyone else could join them. No mirrors, no windows. Four cameras, one in each corner and mics, and the table. Cuffs held Piers to his steel chair as well, clasped behind his back to the bars that made up the backing of it with his head lulled forward, thick drops of crimson slowly slipping down from his lip. He'd taken punishment, that was certain. "Piers..." his voice came out softer than he wanted, coughing out the discomfort as he pulled back the chair across from him, stealing a cigarette to his mouth and putting it to his own lips, flicking his two cent lighter with the abominable child lock on twice before the flame stayed lit, sucking in the fumes. The younger man didn't look up and he considered checking to see if he was conscious until finally there was some movement, hazel eyes flicking up to see the object of his torment seated across from him. Chris expected a smile but saw none. "Looks like they did a number on you, huh?"

Looking away, the younger man seemed more dejected then Chris ever would have imagined him to be, the fight in him all but beaten out. But he wasn't talking, so obviously there was still some pepper in him, he just didn't know what to do. It was his job to get information no matter the cost to the killer in front of him, but that didn't make it any easier. He was just a boy. The words lacked all the vibrance Chris was use to hearing from the younger man, gritting his teeth at how those fiery eyes refused to lift completely, tipping his head away to reveal the broken lip and the bruise Chris had left him as a souvenir on the side of his face. Blood clung on the inside of his mouth, spitting it out onto the ground that made a loud splat, serving only to grate against Chris' nerves. "What are you doing here captain... come to gloat?" Piers sighed, his lips pursed together, the pouty lip curled smile devoid completely from his features while Chris swallowed back some resentment at himself for having allowed anyone to hit Piers. He was too young for this, and confused... and. Hell, Chris knew better, Piers wasn't young or confused, no matter what that file work had said. He was an experienced tactical operative who knew exactly what he was doing, and yet he still couldn't bare seeing him hurt that way.

"They said you aren't talking."

Damn it. The darkness of the room was making it feel more dingy inside than it really way, but it didn't stop the red on Piers lip looking any less like crimson, or any less out of place on his pretty features. It was strange that they were so close, but so far away. The table between them was starting to make Chris' chest feel cramped. Like this he couldn't even see the normal pleased expression on those fine features, or the way that way he seemed to look straight through his skin into the person he really was. It hurt a little, knowing that the man in the seat in front of his was almost as young as he had been when he'd left his station in the Airforce. They were so alike in so many ways but he knew nothing about Piers' life or why it seemed he was so fixed on Chris. He should have seen it before, that this was the kid with the outstanding test scores he'd passed over twice because 19 was no age to be joining a company where the mortality rate was over 80%. Was that all this was about? Piers wanted to prove something to Chris, that he was good enough? What questions to ask was the real problem. What was going to make him open up and speak his mind. "They hurt you?" Jill said use whatever tactic there was, so maybe she'd get the picture that going at this kid with his fist wasn't going to get them anywhere... Hopefully she forgave the fact that he sounded completely over concerned about someone who spent the last few months trying to kill him, but honestly after having it beat into his skull that he should already know who this kid is, it only seemed right not to beat him for Chris' mistake.

"Your boys in blue couldn't beat a punching bag into submission. Came to show them how to do their jobs? Well, I'm tied up, captain, can't fight back. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"You know I don't want that Piers."

"No? Then why are you here Captain?

Chris winced at the implication, his hand coiling into a fist seeing the hurt in those eyes as they accused him of being the one to come here and literally beat the confession out of him. He could have killed him out in that field... maybe he should have. It might have been better off than being locked in this room with him at a stand still. "You want, I can take those off." He pulled up the key on the other side of the table, holding it between his fingers and waiting to see just what reaction it would earn him, but it yielded not a thing. Piers just sat there, staring off to the side, occasionally spitting blood to the ground. "Just say the word Piers and I'll leave. If that's what you really want. I'll be happy to send you back to whatever place they've got lined up for twenty year old drop outs without a shred of dignity." Just do what you're good at Chris, hit him where it hurts and watch him coil. Eyes narrowed at each other, the two staring rather deadlocked for a brief second before Chris nodded his head and continued. "You're doing all this because I refused your applications to join the B.S.A.A.? I thought you were better than that, of course I've been wrong before. You dropped out of the military, looks like it was a good decision on my part to turn you down. I don't need weak minded people working my unit." That hit him. There was a jerk against the cuffs holding him in place, a snarl finally creeping over his features as eyes finally lifted to meet his, glazed and betrayed. How had he betrayed Piers? It was evident now that's what this was all about. "I wanted something better to come from this-

"No, what you wanted one last shot at stat rape before they ship me off. Just mad because I left you hanging there on the edge of that sweet blinding moment? Or are you here to confess to your boys that their captain almost lost his shit a few weeks ago to an underage contract killer?" A smirk twisted onto bloody lips, though immensely lackluster compared to its previous smiles. It was missing all the flirt he was use to seeing and the cunning was gone, just evident discord there. Just watery eyed and defensive. He was going to make Chris regret every second of being in this room with him, particularly after that last statement. He'd hit too close to home apparently. "You have told them though haven't you...? About the lake? I will if you haven't. Your boys in the next room know their captain has a thing for little boys?" Chris grunted and shoved back from the table, turning to the camera in the corner and making a slash at his throat, immediately demanding they cut the feed to this room. This was an awful idea. Terrible idea. Piers knew he couldn't tell anyone about the lake. In fact they'd shared enough in conversation to know there was a lot that Chris couldn't say on the record. He was going to make him work for this confession. He watched the red lights on the cameras go out, turning on his heel and slamming both palms down on the steel table top, shuddering beneath his weight.

"You know that's not what happened. I'm not the one that put my hands down your pants. I didn't do anything to you."

"What didn't you do Captain? Have you looked in the mirror lately? Wait better yet, how's that drinking problem?!" Piers lurched in his chair, met by Chris' fist that plowed into the side of his face, snapping his head to the side. They were silent again, the younger of them dropping his head back again. At least he was talking now. About something Chris was sure to regret but it was at least talking. Piers was attempting to collect himself, but he wasn't doing a very good job. He was chewing on his lip and still fighting the urge to give Chris those sad hazel eyes that were almost killing him. He'd hit a twenty year old kid. Damn it. "That the best you can do Chris?! Come captain, prove what a man you are. Bury your fist in my face a few more times I'm sure you'll feel bet-

Chris heard the crack when he hit Piers the second time, his hand shaking from the effort of having pulled the punch grunting with the effort of it. "Damn it Piers! Stop this now and just...," was he crying? Holy... "Are you..." What the hell was he suppose to say? He'd hit Piers harder than that when they went toe to toe in the field and he took much more than that here in this room. Swallowing, Chris knelt, looking up at Piers' face as the younger man twisted to hide from Chris' prying eyes. "Come on kid I've hit you harder than that." Tipping his head he tried to smile, reaching up a hand on its own accord and cupping his chin to face him back toward him. Why was this so conflicting? He knew this was wrong, he should have walked away from Piers when he had the chance, but now, now how could he turn away? Shaking his head he leaned forward, pressing his lips tentatively to those bruised pouty lips. They were electric. The moment Chris' lips touched his, his hands cupped the back of that neck, deepening it, revealing in the need Piers threw into it. Fingers reached across the steel table, resting on the keys to his restraints and immediately undoing them, never losing contact for a second as those fingers came round and caught in Chris' shirt, pulling him closer. Those needy kisses, trailing down his jaw, latching onto the stubbled flesh of his neck, tongue laving the flesh under those lips as calloused hands yanked him up out of the chair, sitting him up on top the steel table. Limber legs immediately slipped around muscled hips, pulling their hips together. Chris tipped his head back between taut shoulder blades, groaning openly as those lips worked down over his neck to his collar, sucking until he was certain there would be a mark. How did they wind up doing this yet again? Chris moaned in his chest, catching Piers by that soft tawny hair and yanking his head back, shoving him down flat against the steel, arching off the steel just the slightest until wanton eyes met Chris, eager hands pulling his own charcoal colored shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside, baring those smooth pectorals. Chris let his hands roam over that olive hue skin, drinking in the sight of him. He was suppose to be interrogating this kid.

* * *

**Hook line and sinker... Its okay though because next comes the real interrogation...**


	4. The Execution

Interrogation had never seemed like such an appropriate word until now. Piers' hands were as experienced at this as they were, stroking and caressing his rifle, no wonder he never missed a shot, Chris couldn't miss either with those things coaxing guttural purrs from the back of his throat. They were intentionally teasing and finding out the little twists and grazing touches that made Chris' skin jump, twitch at feeling the dips of his muscles through Chris' overly tight B.S.A.A. regulation shirt, and with every second that passed with their mouths devouring each other Chris felt like he was starting suffocate with this thing constricting his air around his thick throat from the overly taut collar. This was the perfect kind of interrogation... except... Piers was the one doing all the interrogating, asking him silent questions with those finger tips dancing over tight knit fabric, clawing gently over mountains in his muscled back and Chris was answering with fervor, groaning and grinding his hips against the younger man who adamantly urged more sounds from him. Like they were all he needed to hear. That smooth body underneath him was so silky, like velvet. And Chris couldn't help but fully right himself again, Piers' back on the table with his legs parted on either side of the captain's hips. Chris' hands explored the lithe form under his hands, reaching a hand up and teasing a hard nub of flesh, pinching, gently grazing at first and then harder the more it seemed to make the young man squirm. He was addictive, and each pinch made him shift weight onto his shoulder blades, spine pushing off the table top, making a single soft whimper.

Twenty years old or not, it was evident he'd never been treated his age. Even Jill knew how old this boy was now and she'd let him be completely abused at the hands of the B.S.A.A.. There were huge purpling bruises formed, and still forming all over his body. There knuckle marks from the pounding he'd taken at their hands. Strangely they didn't feel out of place on him, just another mark of how well above his years he was. His ribs were obviously the target of a lot of frustration on their part. They decided to use him as a punching bag in here and he hadn't spilled a single thing to them. No wonder he was so spiteful toward Chris for telling him he had no intentions of hurting him. His hard physique, was really quite impressive for his age... With how hard he was panting from the mix of pleasure that Chris teased him with, and the powerful hurts that the B.S.A.A. had caused him, he was a perfect mixture of both worlds, his youthful olive skin stained with sweat and battered bruises. There was no way this kid was getting away from Chris this time, not with how close they'd come so many times. He still had a job to do though..., and unlike those assholes who didn't mind kicking the shit out of a child, he was going to tease every beautiful confession from those full pouted lips until he milked every answer and then some out of that kid. Oh hell he wanted a lot more than answers, watching those hazel eyes clenched shut when he let his nail stroke over the warm heated flesh.

Calloused pads switched sides, twisting the nub of flesh under his fingers, and flicking his forefinger over it. "What's your name?" Something simple, always establish a baseline make absolutely sure that this little vixen wasn't going to lie his way out of this. Chris was eying the way Piers was whimpering under each pinch, stopping to lean, pursing his own lips and blowing cool air over that nipple, hearing as gasp as his tongue darted out, running in a circle around that singular target, Piers' body so sensitive to the touch, reaching out to grab Chris only to have his hands smacked away. "Name soldier," Chris continued to command, lapping his nipple and pulling it into his mouth.

"Nivans." Piers gasped, as the words dropped from his lips, Chris nipped, pulling out a long string of moans before he threatened to pull away. "Nivans, Piers Victor." The entire thing earned him exactly what he was struggling for, Chris' lips sealing over the flesh and suckling, rasping his tongue over that sensitive tissue, pulling back when he felt Piers' grinding his hips up against Chris' larger frame, chuckling at the sudden reversal of their roles. Chris was always at Piers' mercy when his hands were on him, but like this Chris had the upper hand. Urging moans and tenor purrs from the body beneath, hitched breathes catching his throat when stubble brushed smooth skin biting down enough to earn a yelp, urging hands finding the back of Chris' head, weaving in his hair as those lips continued they're perverse tease of that lithe torso. Piers needed a good reminder to him that he sits at the kiddy table, and that Chris calls him when he is to be served, not the other way around.

"Mmm, good boy... so how old are you, Piers Victor Nivans?"

Piers wasn't really listening, functioning on autopilot for the most of this, his eyes flickered shut while Chris pulled back up to look down on the younger man who's verbally and physically assaulted him enough throughout the last few months that he'd infuriated the entire B.S.A.A. Rough palms traversed the planes of those smooth pectorals, down by the scar on his hip where Chris had tagged him by the lakeside, that way he'd tugged down those loose fitting pants with the intention of just being a flat out cock tease. Nails scrapped over the fresh tissue, cramming his huge splayed hand down to held him in place against the chilling table top. Each second the rogue agent refused to answer Chris' hand continued its downward drag until it cupped the fabric between his legs, trapping his thighs apart with his own huge frame. Rubbing him roughly through the pants, Chris was getting a good feel of the reaction he was causing with all the attention to that younger, muscled frame. "Twenty..., an... and," Chris rubbed again, Piers words tripping up in his mouth, moaning at the delicious friction that it was causing, "352 days... Don't stop captain.." Piers' moans were completely unabashed, chewing his lower lip with each manhandled grinding of forceful palming against those fatigues, looking for some place to put his wandering hands, one finding his own pretty boy hair, and the other sliding across those lean pectoral muscles finding the place Chris had been teasing earlier with his mouth.

"Who are your parents?" Chris voice was low, dangerous, intentionally challenging of the youthful sniper that was hunting for a place to rest his eyes, embarrassment reddening those pretty young cheeks, while Chris gave another measured massage to his groin, roughly, leaning down once to dip his tongue into Piers' belly button, making olive skin break out in goosebumps. "Their names and ranks... come on Piers, who's your daddy?" Chris smirked watching the red burn on Piers' features, blush slathering his perfectly soft countenance, his other hand coming up to cup Piers' chin forcing him to look him in the eye while that other hand forced unadulterated moans. He was so pretty, how was he that sinfully delicious, chewing on that lower tier like a lifeline while eying Chris' mouth and mutely begging for a kiss? "Let's hear it soldier, who's your _daddy?_" That was all lust, he couldn't help how twisted that sounded when it came out, a soft tenor moan dragged out of his chest when the captain gripped and tightened his hold on the stiffening erection between his legs. Kid was twenty years old and he was 34, it wasn't as though it didn't make sense for him to get an exaggerated rush out of wicked boy's trembling thighs.

"Nivans, Dean; major...," Chris squeezed tighter his gunner gloves bunching the fabric in his hand, loving how that voice hitched and broke when he squeezed and rubbed again, his voice all but hoarse shouting in the shock of Chris' ministrations. "Lieutenant Grerson, Anya."

"See... _such_ a good boy when you want to be." Chris couldn't help the continued attention, releasing his hold on the fabric between the younger man's legs, gasping as though he'd been holding a breath for almost five minutes while Chris adjusted his hold on him, gripping those almost slim muscled hips and grinding their hips together. The layers of material between them felt paper thin, his own hardening erection rubbing hypnotically against those fantastically round cheeks. Throwing his head back as they were practically mock fucking in the interrogation room, groaning with each grind and thrust, loving the friction, Chris couldn't help getting caught up in the depraved whorish moans of the man under him. If anything though he'd do away with all these clothes, get him down to debased and naked, get a look at the boy who had been out playing him in every facet until now. And just the reminder of those teasing flirty comments and lusty hazel eyes were making him push harder. "Who are you working for Nivans? What's the name of the outfit that hired you?" This malicious little boy had been pretending at being a soldier for too long, behind closed doors with just the two of them, it was about time he shut his mouth and taught him who was in charge. Chris was the master of this game, the master of the battle field, this little bitch would learn not to play with fire. These were the important questions, and he was having trouble forming those questions with how amazing this felt, the parted thighs at his hips clasping around him at the ankle to hold Chris to him, those amazing ab muscles tightening as Piers pulled himself upright, arms lounging loosely around his neck, sucking at his stubbled jawline. "ARrrgh, what's the name Piers?" Mmm... could he feel how hard he was getting at the idea of laying this kid out flat and finally taking what belonged to him, grinding his cock against each other? He wanted to satisfy all his wants and bury himself in this tempered slick frame.

"It.. it's nnnhh, oh captain, please," those little pleas were driving Chris insane, grinding their hips together harder and locking them, feeling their erections brush through the fabric, and suddenly overwhelmed with the want to feel that sweaty tan skin against his own. Abruptly; experience, and battle hardened mitts jerked the belt holding Piers' pants in place, jamming his hands down the back of his fatigues and taking two handfuls of that fine body, picking him up off the table, gripping and groping the body clinging to him, still nuzzled in his neck while humming pleasant moans in his ear, huskily driving Chris to the edge. "They're called Il Veltro, they hired me just after I went rogue... guess someone thought I was good enough for them..." Chris knew the name, he'd fought against those crazy assholes with Jill a long time ago, hearing the name again was just infuriating, squeezing those globes of flesh in his hands, damaging the tissue and bruising him further as punishment. Chris had the muscle mass to hit boulders to pieces and the strength to fight Albert Wesker, carrying Piers around didn't even warrant thinking about. Pushing him up against the wall and using it to pull him up higher, tipping his torso back to get a good look at the younger man's body and where their pelvises met, his cock nudged against the backside of his ass. It would be so easy to take this too far, but it had already gotten there... they were passed too far and Chris just wanted to dive in head first.

"The name of the man who hired you Piers... I want it." That last bit was referring to this, his hands yanking out of those fatigues and slipping around front, using the wall as a brace for Piers as he tipped back enough to be able to reach his hands between them, undoing the belt, yanking the tongue through the loops and finally removing it with a soft clink as the buckle released, thumbs warring for control of the button and zipper. He wasn't even bothering to look at Piers, he just wanted these pants off so he could see the rest of this fevered body. The button relented, then each tooth of the zipper., almost jamming with how quickly he rushed to pull them open He was too busy concentrating on the fabric covering those hips to really care what Piers' answer was, but he had to get the answers one way or another, and Piers seemed to enjoy getting grilled. Probably enjoyed getting pounded too the way those lips were always teasing him with little innuendos or how talented he'd been giving Chris a good jerk at the lake side. It was his turn to jerk this little boy around til he got the picture. Chris wasn't a boy, he was a man, he worked hard, and he played hard, fast and hard. He'd leave him spent and reeling.

"Didn't have a name. Never asked. Paid me with a wire transfer. Shift your hips captain." Confidence was returning to Piers' voice, arching his weight against his shoulders on the wall, reaching both hands below them, undoing Chris' belt far more efficiently than how long Chris had taken, throwing it aside. "Put me down captain." Chris obeyed the command without a second, Piers slinking against the wall and dropping to his knees to pull the rest of Chris' fatigues off, yanking them over his boots for the captain to step out of, leaving him in the black boxer briefs that constrained his pulsing erection that was practically weeping to be released, heat warming his fingertips while he traced Chris' girth, shoving his hips back and climbing to his feet. "Get in the chair." He was throwing commands around at ease, Chris obeying, his massive thighs drifting open, patting his lap with his right hand. "They hired me for seven jobs. Three installed payments, one for supplies in the beginning, once when it was half done, and I get paid again when the job is complete." Piers moved with a sway of his hips, stepping around behind the chair, hands teasing huge expanse of that massive chest while Chris took in slow lethargic inhaled breaths breathing in Piers naturally intoxicating body scent, snarling when Piers' fingertips threatened to pinch his nipples before traveling lower, nuzzling his cheek and whispering in his ear. "I have to admit, it was a means to an end... I always wanted to my hands on this body...," his voice was husky and just centimeters from Chris' ear, heavy breathing making Chris groan, those nimble fingers doing their sinful dance down his body, tracing those sexy muscles of his V, down to his straining erection, palming him through his boxer briefs.

"Wha... what was, the," Chris was tripping on his words, as those talented fingers looped the waist band with the other hand, reaching inside Chris' undergarments and filling his right hand with that impressive girth, sucking on the lobe of Chris' ear. The rolls had reversed so quickly from the master interrogator to the young boy having his way with a man who had dominated Albert Wesker. It was sensational, being handled with such expertly knowing hands, letting him handle his body like an instrument, orchestrating predominately deep groans of satisfaction. He could feel the pressure behind mahogany eyes as sexual gratification same so close with the right indulging manipulations. "The last job Piers, what was the last job? Oh fuck," They were at it again, Piers in charge with his little power bottom ways of working Chris up to the point where he felt like he could cum in his hand, the other hand coming up and fondling that hard nub of flesh on his chest, his lips and tongue caressing that scratchy jawline when Chris tipped his head to the side to give him access, feeling that warm moist tongue caressing his flesh. "Shit, goddamn it Piers, the last job what was it suppose to be?"

Piers smirked, releasing his nipple and swinging his weight to mount the captain, straddling into Chris' lap, his hand still pumping Chris into a panting mess , licking his tongue up Chris' jaw to the lower tier of his mouth, dipping his tongue into that inviting mouth, Chris sucking on that perverse instrument of desire. He was so damn perverted compared to Chris. The older man had spent months being teased by this wild cat, and he had thought of countless ways they'd wind up seducing each other, but nothing ever touched on this. A mess of sweat and spit and sex. Piers fingers were pumping him with a tormenting pace, groaning into the wet cavern of Piers' mouth, their teeth clacking in a rough kiss while rolling his hips in Chris' lap, peeling their lips apart and trailing a map of shared saliva over Chris' cheek. "This one of course..." The husky purr in his ear was like a wave, Chris groaning deep in his throat when the young man nipped his exposed adam's apple, both hands fleeting, Chris suddenly hearing the click.

The fucking handcuffs. "Piers' don't."

"You really thought someone... as good as me, left the clip out of your gun, on accident?"

"Piers don't you fucking dare..."

"What's the matter captain... its not like I can get anyway locked up in this interrogation room. And we aren't near done yet." Piers chuckled, that light flirtatious laugh while he swung his leg off Chris, climbing to his feet and buttoning the pants around his own waist that had started to sag from Chris' rough housing. "I have to say though, with your access card and keys it will be a lot easier." Sweat was still clinging to him, evidence of his own pleasure clearly causing his heavy breathing to accent all those coy little phrases that spider webbed their way around him. Piers pulled up Chris' pants off the ground, pulling his access cards out of the back pocket, and the keys to his truck in one victorious swoop. Chris was livid, stunned into submission before he started jerking against the chair realizing it had been bolted down... as well as the table. "They wanted to make sure I wasn't going anywhere captain. It'll hold nicely for at least five minutes against your strength, right?" three steps and he was about to walk away, but something stayed the younger man, feasting his hazel hunger back at Chris, a sly narrowed eye and cock of his brow before coming back to the captain restrained in the chair meant for the much smaller man. Placing the cards and keys on the far side of the table, Piers crossed to him without another word, dropping down to his knees in front of Chris and freeing his cock with one easy little shift of his boxer briefs, using no pretenses at all. Chris was in heaven for almost two minutes, full lips parting in a perfect 'O' and engulfing his deserted meat and rekindling the fire in the captain's gut. Bobbing over his throbbing erection; the will to fight back completely flooding out of him, into that talented mouth, the moist, flicking tongue teasing his head as he came back up before consuming the entire thing, swallowing motions driving Chris crazing, hissing and grimacing his praise to Piers, ragged grunts following as he neared so close.

Piers let him too, plunging that massive piece inside his tight throat and slurping on him messily on purpose so the sounds would greet Chris' ears, drawing all his attentions to the tawny haired man. Not bothering to pull back; salty tang hit his tongue and forced Chris down his throat so he could cum down his his tight passage, filling his gut with that overbearing warmth, while Chris' breathes hitched and broke, groans tearing from the base of his lungs and out, crying out as those lips milked away every drop of thick semen. Slowly rising and tucking Chris back into his undergarments, leaning forward with saliva and cum at the corner of his lips. "Still taste like gunpowder if you ask me captain... Never have gotten over that taste." Pressing a wet kiss to the captain's gasping cheek, Piers winked, hearing as ragged 'wait!' before he was out the door.

_'Call me captain when you're on your knees boy.'_

_'You taste like gunpowder captain... so good.' _

Shit...

* * *

**Well its never good... I mean it is, but Chris, *tsktsk* How could you let yourself get played sooooo easily.**

**Have to say, though I'm not a huge AU fan, this is probably my favorite story that I'm writing, just because I like cocky little Piers giving Chris a run for his money. We'll just have to find out what a bad boy Chris has been in the mean time. For those that did he math, Piers is ALMOST 21, as stated, whatever happened between them happened before that... cradle robing much?**


	5. Their History

_You taste like gun powder..._

"Chris I can't believe you! Are you kidding me?! Do you know what that kid did, and you let him walk?!"

Jill's face was a mix of emotion, watching as Chris threw apart his desk looking for the file work he was sure he had but not finding. Chris didn't do paperwork, but he could if need be and he'd needed to back then, so since he had possibly the worst filing system on the face of the planet there was no way of knowing. But then, there was knowing without knowing. "You think Jill?! You weren't the only one that he ghosted." On top of that, there was no reason for him to get completely complicated over the matter. He didn't needed Jill to know what happened in the interrogation room. He'd gotten loose almost five minutes later, just like anticipated... clothed and rearmed, only then had he reported the kid escaped. Damn little brat. By the time Jill had sounded any kind of alarmed herself, Piers was gone. How had he even known how to get around this place, his access key was a key, not a map. He wasn't kidding when he said he was talented at his job. Chris continued searching, but knew well that he wasn't going to find it. "Damn it!" Chris threw shut the file cabinet. It wouldn't be in the computer, Chris didn't pretend to use computers, but evidently he'd considered that as well. "All the mission details on what happened during the Il Veltro mission is gone..., including all the information on the known affiliates and whereabouts, where we keep all the things we confiscated."

"Damn it Chris seriously, he could have done anything with those key codes!" Shoving him aside Jill quickly spun in the swivel chair, dropping her hands on the keyboard and immediately typing like a professional, or a thirteen year old girl, since they seemed to be equal in this day and age in the field of keyboarding. Pass codes and keys thrown into place before pulling up the file work of her own, all the information flying up in six seven, thirteen windows of information, scanning for everything involved. "There's no way this kid hacked into the B.S.A.A. mainframe... shit but if they're just looking for information on what we did with their men and where they're being held..." Glowering, the age old partner vehemently twisted her lips, "Alright Chris, start talking... you've had that look on your face since the second you walked out of interrogation. Who the hell is that kid!? Why is he out to get you?"

* * *

_Tangy, burning scorched the back of Chris' raspy throat, ignoring the urge to cough from the searing pain and instead taking a long fulfilling drag off his cigarette butt, poison filling massive lungs hidden beneath his huge chest; while Chris smeared his fingers across the slick rain soaked stone, slippery and frozen against the tips of his calloused hands. The words scrawled across the front were just another in the huge display here at the cemetery, another long line of apologies that sad siblings, children, mothers, and fathers,... and old rivals had put on their headstone to relieve some kind of guilt that could come from immortalizing some final last words. Patting the huge slab one more time, the captain gave a saluted snarl, a glass clinked while the whiskey bottle settled atop the stone, rain drops echoing off the empty glass filling the air with the sound of tinkling bells, filling with deluded yellowing drops. Dark brown eyes narrowed at the stone, shaking his head, unshaven for a week and not sober for one second longer than between bottles lasted which so long as the B.S.A.A. was paying meant never. Crumpling a brown bag in one hand, another long neck showed itself, glancing far across the desolate wasteland of sadness for nothing at all but finding with it, another section of the greenery; two men standing in their black suits, mourning a loss. Heh, poor suckers, did they suppose that that wearing nice clothing and looking like a fucking penguin was going to make it easier for them to deal with death. They needed the whiskey more than he did. He wasn't about to share though, that was sure; this bottle was meant for him... and for the man six feet under. Scoffing, there was a darkness from the cloud cover overhead, looking up behind sunglasses that shielded the darkening bags under his eyes and the blown out pupils, cracking open the fresh bottle once and pouring some out over the grave at his feet, staining the smooth slate with malt brown. So many dead men, they deserved the good stuff... This shouldn't have mattered so much... it was only a matter of time for them all, how was this any different, could have easily been Chris in his place._

_"Chris... its time to go, I've gotta get back." Jill's concerned eyes met her partner's, not daring a look at the grave herself, both mortified they were here and strangely drawn beside him, wrapping her tiny arms around his bulk of a waist a sort of loving embrace only they could share; nudging him along whilst taking another swig and a huff off the stick of cancer before tossing those too for the grounds keeper to find in the event that anyone else ever came to this part of the cemetary. It was unlikely there would ever be another human being interested in that grave, but still, it was more fitting to leave him with the bottle, than to take it with. "Maybe you should stay home tonight Chris... its not a big deal. Its just a recruitment thing you don't have to be there."_

_"Wha's the poin,' 'They wan' the grea' hero there... don' they?"_

_The horrible slur was noxious sidling into her ear canals, assaulting and battering her face wand nose with the scent of over ripe booze and the serious lack of a shower on the stale sun bleached jacket leather absorbing and stinking of wet must; while his large muscled frame slacked over forward with a proper drunken hunch. If Jill Valentine was any other kind of woman, she wouldn't have been able to carry Chris' weight this way, but even with his massively muscled frame leaning and tripping over his own feet, ground slick and soaking up their pant legs, wetting socks and feet both; she still managed to hold up her partner. She was well versed in the process. Craning her head down so she wouldn't have to witness this disgrace, with one arm around the partner she'd had since day one, and the other sneaking out to pull open the cobalt blue sedan door. Both were slick with the October rain, drenched through to her bright blue panties and bra, but she couldn't care less helping Chris into his place on the leather seating as it squeaked under his mass, ignoring the cigarette already in his mouth. There was no point fighting him, once Chris was drunk, if he wanted something you gave it to him, or he'd make you. The smoking was the least of her worries anyway, cancer would kill you yeah, but it wouldn't get you doing stupid shit you'd never do otherwise. He'd always had a bit of a drinking problem before, it ran in the family. It wasn't as though Jill hadn't had her fair share of drowning in a bottle, but now... there were times she questioned now if Chris could even remember his own name. "Are you absolutely sure Chris, I can do this alone. You weren't obligated to go, its just me. They just mixed it all into one.. the announcement and the recruitment, so it's bound to be a lot of people"_

_"Tryin' ta ge' rid of me now too Valentine?"_

_Jill slammed the door shut, almost clipping Chris' cement feet while he dragged them like an elephant into the car, cutting him off before he could continue on with that melodramatic kind of thinking. Sucking in crisp clean air between her pursed lips she repeated the mantra she'd taken up since the day Chris had returned to the bottle. 'You can do this Jill. Just get him through the night. Just one more night.' Closing large saucer like eyes, the woman yanked open the driver's side door, clambering into the driver's seat with a squeak, and slipped the keys out of her watery pocket, cramming them into place and revving the engine; burbling in the storm. In a huff, she grit her teeth to hear her partner prattling on as though she hadn't even stopped his conversation by shutting the door over on him, swearing into his cigarette as though that would help him now. Perhaps there was something that she could do for him, or not. Being back in the real world was hard on every soldier, let alone one who had lost so much..., or felt he'd been left by everyone and everything. Sufferers of PTSD were often told to go through these kinds of issues, but Jill knew the real reason he was drunk off his ass and refusing any kind of help but to stumble through day after day like her puppy dog. It was the scars. Everyone had them, but no one forgot._

* * *

"Look you remember that day don't you? When the rain just kept falling and we didn't really have anything left. It was pouring outside, the day of the ceremony... the one for-"

"What I remember is you drunk as a skunk literally making me take you everywhere but to a warm shower because you thought it was okay to treat me like your chauffeur. And yes Chris I remember, the day when you went to the cemetery and made me pick you up because _you_ had nothing left. I had a lot, I'm not sorry for what happened, and you shouldn't be either. You hit a low, it happens to everyone when someone dies, but I know what it meant to you not having him around anymore, no matter what he did." Jill crossed her arms around her chest, trying not to get overly pissed at her partner for his prolonged explanation. "How do you even remember it, you couldn't even spell Redfield on your 'Hi my name is' tag." Annoyed, pursed lips tugged to the corner, seeing red as Chris ground his fingers into his temple trying to draw memories back from a place he had barely had the talent to recall. these memories were so damn chaotic, he never wanted to remember them to begin with. That's what the booze had been for, to forget all his sorrow and crimes. Apparently a soldier was always a soldier and some part of him did remember that day no matter what he wanted particularly those few words, that drew back to him like a train colliding with his face. The booze never did help him much. There was no freedom for Chris Redfield, even in a bottle of Jameson, or six of them. Closing the computer with a flick of her fingers, she managed to pull her full attention to the man yanking migraines out of his brain in a battle for conviction to continue on. Evidently something was bothering him, his entire person was on edge; muscles flexed in his arms to the point where the veins in his arms looked strained, chest heaving and his gut so tense she could swear he was going to throw up. "Keep going..."

"I appreciate what you did for me then Jill, taking me out of that place I was in a dark place and I needed you. I appreciated it but..., look you remember the memorial?"

"The celebration..., yes Chris I remember. Only you thought it was a memorial."

* * *

_Every soldier in the area had come from miles around this place, touching the hopes and dreams of little boys earning their keep and full grown men inspired to act when a miraculous event happens that changes the tides of the war. Who cared what they were there for, an open bar was all that mattered. Chris had been settled there for the last half hour driving the bar tender to insanity with demands for the bottle when they were given strict instructions not to, and getting ranted at every time they threatened to water it down with huge cubes of ice. Ambient lighting kissed the glass in his rough palm sparkling a glint in his eye that went completely unnoticed, throwing back another before the glass came up, cool to rest against his forehead, the chunks of ice still melting away because of his furnace like heat. He needed a distraction and fast before he pissed off the guy at the corner of the bar by using up all the whiskey, considering moving on to something better, like straight vodka, it had a better burn. All these old ass bastards had just as much reason to drink as he did, so why didn't they? Instead they were all happy and victorious for a deed they hadn't even done. They were gratifying themselves with someone else's actions, as though they deserved an ego stroke. They could keep their fucking 'victory.' Snarling, Chris' lip curled over his teeth slapping the glass down hard on the counter demanding another with a ferocious growl resembling a bear, immediately served up with some hope that this one would quell the man's appetite. Jill's turn to talk. Some shitty piece about comradery and family... Yeah, what they didn't tell you was what follows. The fact that every man you take under your wing would die and not pretty little honorable deaths, no, and then if you didn't go with them; so would the other people in your life, the only one you could count on to stay alive. He couldn't take this. Hauling his hulking form from the seat, Chris ignored the man rushing to take up his limited spot prepared to slink off around the edges of the place until he found a good spot to throw up in. Spotting an open balcony across the way, window doors drawn shut, Chris weaved..., no stumbled and beat down the people in the crowd to cross the room, shoving those out of the way that refused to move and issuing a growled command at those who seemed to want to step up, ignoring Jill's sympathetic eyes following him as she spoke on ironically about her own family at the B.S.A.A._

_Stupid little recruiting stunt. Those assholes didn't even know what it meant to be a soldier. They were a bunch of uptight children who wanted to join up to prove their worth when all they were proving was what complete dumbasses they were. Shoving the windowed doors aside along with crush blue blustery curtains, Chris scoffed, heavy feet numb, tingling and plodding to catch up under him. Tripping into the marble banister to catch himself with his face, hands too sluggish to come up and brace him, Chris could taste of irony tang of blood mingling with the whiskey still coating the inside of his cheeks. Working up a spit with blood globbed in his mouth, the captain snorted, leaning over and hacking the blob down on whoever's unfortunate head it might land on outside. Still fucking raining, what would they care? The world was crying. What a fucking line of shit. Those people in there were laughing and playing with revelry. Chirs rubbed the red in his eyes, a mix of the alcohol and emotions from earlier swearing about the loud music and the raucous giving him a pre-hangover migraine. That was before he heard the sounds of footsteps beside him, and the glass doors shutting again. Some ass hole come to join him on the this desolate balcony... in the middle of Jill's speech..? The least this shit could do was listen to what they'd come to see, even if it was some spectacle publicity stunt. Colossal hands clobbering down on the railing, at the next sound of a clearing throat, Chris growled like an animal, about roar at the little punk recruit who came to join this farse. If they wanted to hold some shitty ass memorial and host it as a tool for recruits, fine, but they could have at least called it a memorial, and they could have at least talked about the real reason they were there. They were just going to do a bunch of glory speeches, but if they were going to go through all that trouble then the punk to his right should have enough decency to listen to his partner's speech. And if not, what the hell were they doing here anyway? "WHAT?!"_

_Youthful features, completely unphased by Chris' tyrannical outburst seemed to mix together into a template of amused full lips, curled ever so slightly into a partial smile, and concerned and worried brows knit together just accenting the bright hazel of half lidded oculars that seemed to take everything in. Here was Chris Redfield, the image of 'the beast', his massive form all tensing muscles, clenching and grinding teeth, with a stubble on his jaw that could now be considered a beard, glowering down at 'the beauty' ready to kill him for just that clearing of his throat. And in his hand? Chris immediately stiffened, licking his already parched, drying lips, dry mouthed for a drink long time coming as a large hand encompassed the diamond in the rough, held out to him with no pretense. "Major always told me, if you're going to get drunk, do it on someone else's dime, and on expensive scotch." Soft tenor was practically mute against the rain, completely unaffected while the captain reached out hands brushing together, the other hand snaking out and bringing up a full bottle._

_"Your major is wrong. Vodka, whiskey, or malt will do fine. Scotch is for old men." Chris drank it anyway, savoring the familiar burn and eying the bottle hungrily, snatching it up from a loose grip, slim fingers dipping back into grey suede pockets. Without the drinks he was pretty, with them he was damn fine. He didn't care what his name was, no one needed a name, particularly the ones handing out bottles of fine scotch for free._

_"I wouldn't know."_

_Why was he still here? Chris poured another glass, drinking it down with that smoothness it afforded and then another, had to be at least fifty years in this bottle. One more, and he realized he was being stared at, hazel watching his adam's apple bob with each swallow an appeased smile on those pretty lips, swallowing what appeared to be a bit of his own dry throat watching the B.S.A.A. water logged captain down the rest of his glass. Finally, refilling it, weighing the glass, the captain handed it back to slimmer hands, dexterously catching up in Chris' fingers instead of taking the glass, just holding them over Chris' own like a blanket. Warmth flooded into those cool finger tips, touching rough gun calloused tips while thoroughly enjoying himself just watching brown eyes on his own face, not jerking away. Just standing there in the wet while the drops brought flipped up bangs down. Watering down the drink as well but neither of them seemed to care. Those eyes were soft, and strangely understanding, strangely knowing, and immensely arousing despite how pissed off Chris was. "What are you staring at, huh?" Chris couldn't help but cut off the silence, his words going straight to the chase even though they came out more curious than he'd ever intended them to sound..., even though this kid was still holding his hand like they were having some kind of a moment. His hands were so uncalloused, unused, but still absorbing all the heat out of his bear claw into them._

_"You are Captain Christopher Redfield... right?"_

_At the mention of his name own name Chris snorted, pulling his hand back and the glass, the coy liquid sloshing over the rim and passed Chris' gruff lips, stuffing the glass back into those reassuring slim hands with a grunt. "What are you, some up and comer, wanna switch from boy scouts to bioterror before you're even jaded enough to accept a fucking drink? What are you, nineteen, eighteen? Beat it you little shit. You have no idea what you're getting into." Chris took a chug from the bottle, reeling back with hatred boiling in his body from the day, leaning on the railing again. Last thing he wanted was some little new age brat hanging around looking for a recommendation. Besides kids his age couldn't get into the B.S.A.A. even if they wanted to. "Thanks for the drink kid, now beat it." Chris groaned, not hearing the footsteps, only the rain, then the hand on his bare arm, an unwarranted, completely ill-advised move on the kid's part, except it felt so good. Wet soaked shirt, wet soaked coat, and wet soaked everything, all surmounted by those warm fingertips prodding just under the hem of his sleeve and over he back of his hand. They were still, completely, just for a brief moment before both pulling away at the same time. "What do you want kid? Just spill it already? How do you know me huh?"_

_"You're the captain of the B.S.A.A., you're starting up a unit called the S.O.U. aren't you? I heard about it from the major, he's not a fan, but... I just... Anyway I wanted to meet you. I followed the Raccoon City incident pretty closely. You were amazing. I'm sorry about your men."_

* * *

"So you're telling me this kid just had a little round of hero worship and it turned him into a killer? I don't buy it Chris." Jill's voice cut through Chris like a knife, his hands flying up and throwing them to the sides, shoving his chair over backward as he stood. "Oh don't get all defensive Chris, I know you were drunk but I have no idea what you could have said to a fifteen year old stroking your ego to make him into a contract killer."

There were so many things that Chris could have said, but rather, he yanked the bottle out of his desk drawer, picking up the vodka stale glass and throwing himself back into the chair. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me Chris."

* * *

**Airing Chris' dirty laundry, Jill might not really want him to keep going... but I'm going to!**

**Drunk Chris is so... drunk...**


	6. The Rock Bottom

**All time low Chris... all time low.**

* * *

_"Look I just wanted to-_

_"Let's get out of here." Thundering baritone voice stopped all other conversation, looking at the nimble hand on his own, jaw clenching and dropping the shot glass to grip the slim wrist. Chris remembered how small his wrist had seemed in his hand but Chris didn't care, just squeezed it and yanked him closer, pulling them flush together until their entire bodies were ground up against one another, looking down on that face through slush drunk eyes and getting the overwhelming urge to have his way with him right there on the balcony. It wouldn't be hard. Just two zippers away from shoving him over this railing so the world could hear his wanton little moans. He probably made such innocent cries in the throes of ecstasy. Chris wanted a distraction, and this kid was just pretty enough to lose himself in for an hour or so with. "You have a room around here, some place we can go?" Large saucer like eyes were flutter blinking, disbelief on his those young features while he shook his head silently, pouted lips parting and stumbling over a 'no,' Chris cutting him off by hooking his large fist tighter like a boa around that wrist, yanking that body up against the balcony until his body was being forced to bend under the captain's force, the stone at his back and the pressure of his large expansive body pressed so close that it was encompassing him and forcibly making the man swallow, leaning back until Chris had all but crushed him up against that marble. "This is how this works kid, and listen very, very carefully." The grasped hand around the bottle of scotch nudged up against the younger man's ribcage, watching him visibly swallow at the unspoken command, not daring to take his eyes and put them on the bottle and make it real. Chris didn't care if this kid only wanted to get on his good side by bringing him some nice scotch, it wasn't enough, not yet."You want to join the S.O.U., right? You want to play soldier boy? This is what we're going to do. You're going to take this," the square jug with its pitcher top thumped ominously against his lean biceps, demanding attention, "and you're going to drink it." Lips drew tight together, those perfectly sculpted brows knitting together as the crystalline glass was forced into his hand, clutching that idle hand and squeezing its nimble fingers tight around it the neck, almost crushing them until his subject of affection finally took hold of it without the help of added pressure; deep brown and blood shot oculars boring into him waiting impatiently. "I said. Drink." Chris voice dropped dangerously low, watching hesitant eyes drop to the bottle and back up to Chris, locking with those seemingly sharp oculars while the drought came up slowly; finding pouted, full lips and tipping back, just the first swallow making his face grimace unhappily, waiting for approval from the man pinning him in place to lower the glistening vat but finding none and instead taking another two half filled mouthfuls before he started to sputter, jerking his face away from the lip of the bottle and making a face coughing. "Heh... boy scout doesn't like the taste. What a surprise." Sarcasm laced heavy breath, taking a swig of his own before pressing it back into the younger man's chest. "Keep going, no fun getting drunk alone."_

* * *

"You got a fifteen year old drunk?" Jill stared incredulous, his eyes bugged out in a bit of horror staring and reaching out, taking the vodka that Chris had started in on, taking a swig of the dusty stale crap herself. "Chris, seriously? If I'd known you'd done that I would have had you taken off active duty immediately, and not because I don't think fifteen year olds drink, hell I loved beer at that age, but because it was you. You took advantage of that kid. There's no way that would have flown. I'd be resentful too, resentful yes, but murderous?" Snarling at the foul taste she continued watching that humiliation that had her partner looking like a beaten dog. "But... I mean it was just drinking right?" The brunette yanked the high tied band out of her thick locks, shaking her head with one more swig before capping it, not returning the bottle to her partner as she pulled the tie from her hair, raking her nails through mandarin orange smelling brown strands, itching her scalp. "Look I'm going to go see what they found when he stole your damn truck okay? We'll talk about this later." Pulling up out of the swivel chair, it did one circlet from her weight lifting, heading away but stopping mid-stride, a uncomfortable shift of her shoulders ensuing. "That is all... right Chris? Just... the drinking?"

"Look Jill you tell me, okay? Was I really to blame? He was talking about having a major, how the hell was I suppose to know he meant his dad not his commanding officer. I thought he was just an up and comer you know, new recruit who wanted in on the lime light after his death!"

"You're covering... Chris, what happened?" Accusation flashed in water blue orbs, shifting her hips back to face him without moving her legs, hands finding their motherly place on her hips. The stance she used for scolding him like he was her child. The new vodka in his gut mixed with stomach acid and made a cocktail of disgust in his mind, sheepish eyes finding her exacting ones, as though his mistakes weren't majorly detrimental ones if there was some kind of explanation as to why he had any reason to think their little contract killer had been anything less than sincere. If at least there was some other place to put the blame other than on himself.

"I was at a low Jill, I wasn't really thinking about the consequences, who's thinking about the consequences when they're so damn drunk they can't spell their own name right? It wasn't-

Eyes went large, gripping Chris as though he didn't weigh easily three times what she did and had the muscle mass of a titan, yanking him away from his desk and toward the men's bathroom, stuffing him inside face first. Giving a kick to each undersized metal door, checking the stalls swiftly before slamming the access shutting and locking it, shoving him around like a chastised kid. He felt like one. Jill was fully capable of handling herself and manipulating Chris. She was pacing the linoleum floor, heels clicking, clacking and arms huffed on her sides. "Chris that _boy_ was fifteen years old, what worse could you have done to him?"

* * *

_"Good boy..., come on, one more." The slimmer body under the weight of his person lurched and let the mountain of a chest be used as a pillow, gasping for air as Chris nursed the bottle up one more time, urging it toward hesitant pouty lips for another swallow, coughing into the bottle as the brown fluid bubbled around the corners of his lips, sputtering against Chris who just chuckled humorlessly, grabbing the bottle for another chug of his own. "That's better. Now, what's your name kid?" It didn't matter much but after such a crude introduction he needed something else to call him other than boyscout, watching as a blush started to creep over already pretty features, throat tightening with a swallow. It was still raining around their bodies, soaking into them even though they were both already drowning, Chris' hand still crushing his wrist and keeping him pinned, sharing his body heat. Chris was like a furnace even in the cold rain, watching him lull his head against his broad pectorals. He was about to part his lips to talk, but Chris raised the bottle again, fire dancing in his eyes as he observed the younger man raising his head without force this time, stroking the side of his cheek with each obligatory swallow, compelled by the hand approvingly urging him to continue, sliding his hand down until it was at his throat, cupping it gently to feel each swallow, watching hazel eyes draw shut between his imbibe of the poisonous liquid. "Such a good little soldier you are, go ahead, keep going." His breath was bated and heavy watching lids droop lower with a small nod, tipping back his head so Chris could continue to stroke his neck, watching him drown himself in the warm solution, finally sputtering, leaning forward despite Chris' weight forcibly leaning him back and clutching to him, coughing against his him and convulsing for air. "Tastes good, doesn't it...," Chris rubbed a circle on the kid's back, smirking as he continued his long dry pant for air. "Name."_

_"Uh, Piers. You know... like tying your boat up and stuff?"_

_"Sounds like your mother hated you."_

_"Screw my mother," _

_Young accusation floundered up from somewhere in the younger man's voice, stronger than it had been before Chris had force fed him the liquor, snickering over the tiny outburst. __"Yeah whatever. You want to join the S.O.U. right Piers?" Peeling off the slimmer body, Chris took the last drink, tossing it over the edge with a snarl when he realized the jug was empty. He must have given more to that kid that he knew. Good, might as well loosen those lips a little. There was a sluggish response of a nod, chewing on the inside of his lip even though his pretty little consort looked ready to bolt. Even if he did it would be a tripped one. He wasn't going anywhere fast, but that's what he got for coming out here in the first place. He needed a good distraction, well now he had one. "Alright pretty boy this is how it works. Now that your good and wet, I'm going to let you earn that promotion. You want in right? You want to earn your stripes. Well I've got your application." Chris watched eager eyes raise making the captain's own mouth water, slipping his tongue out and sweeping it over his own upper lip, yanking the kid by the arm. "Alright then boy, lets see what you're made of." Part dragged and part skipping to keep up with the hulking form pulling him through the hotel this 'celebration' was being held at, Chris led him almost straight to the front desk, making sure to stop by the open bar and swipe a bottle of vodka from the bartender, then thunderous steps took them up to the front desk. He didn't care about the expression he got from the pin head concierge in charge of the front desk, rummaging in soaking wet clothing until he came up victorious, throwing the plastic into the man's boggling hands. Piers was antsy, his legs restless as he stood there waiting, and Chris could remember the sidelong glance he gave him while the suited penguin asked them if they were father and son. With those hazel eyes looking at him that way, full lips trying not to laugh, Chris could have bent him over the counter top and wipe that smug look off his face, snarling agreement at said penguin, stealing away the card again and driving it deep down into the same place, pocketing it._

* * *

"Chris you... you bribed the kid with a promotion to get drunk with you?" Jill felt herself about to get sick, but she refused to believe what she was hearing would have led to anything but drinking. Her partner had hit a low yes, but hearing him tell it, he was humiliated by the implication alone. Her pacing was turning into stomping, turning into hauling off and punching one of the metal stall doors, letting fall a growl of her own, before gripping Chris by the shirt and her eyes narrowed, watching him cower at her. Chris never cowered. Not unless he'd done something he knew his partner would approve of, this was bad, but she knew where it could lead and her stomach turned over while both hands wove into his shirt collar. "Alright partner... tell me, swear to me that was it. Just drinking a kid into a stupor for some company. I know even being at that celebration was hard for you, but... that's where it ended. Right? No more to tell..., please Chris, please tell me there's no more to tell." She was begging, her eyes, mouth, body language... Jill was at a loss. There couldn't have been anyway that Chris Redfield, a man so devoted to the cause, let himself become the villain.

* * *

_"You swear it? I get to work under you?"_

_"That's what I said isn't it? Under me, around me, what's the damn difference." Watching the numbers on the elevator go up Chris felt his body lurch from gravity, watching his younger companion bouncing the heel of one foot on the ground looking around nervously. What did a kid like this have to be nervous about? He was good looking, someone was bound to make that connection in his platoon one of these days, so it wasn't a big deal. "Quit moving around." Yanking the vodka bottle open with a flexed bicep and twitch of his great hand, the captain let the scent of sharp burning clear liquids kiss his lips before dragging the younger man by the back of his neck up against him again. He fit so well there, all lean bodied and fumbling as yet another alcoholic beverage burned his lips and nostrils, fingers splayed at the back of his head gripping him in place to force him to hold still, the bottle caressing full tiers, back and forth on his lower lip before Chris forced it back. "Stop acting like a fuckin' teenager, come on. Take it in, there ya go, thereee ya go, gets easier the more you drink. Come on, part those pretty lips drink up." Chris snarled feeling the slimmer body start twisting the longer Chris held him there, helping the the straight vodka being forced down his throat holding his arm around him, keeping his head forcibly tipped back by the fingers twined in his short hair. As soon as it had hit the back of Piers gullet he was reeling, trying to pull away from the monumental mitts holding him in place while clear fluids poured over the sides of his lips swallowing what he could, choking and gagging on the rest until Chris was satisfied, taking a quick chug with Piers' tawny hair still in his hand before disregarding patience; crushing their lips together. Chris ignored the worried gasping, shutting him up by unceremoniously introducing him to his tongue which crammed viciously passed lips, already partly agape, and stifling all complaints, brushing off the nip to his tongue as the body in his arms slowly stopped its pitching and yanking and started to melt. The inexperience was obvious, but Chris was too drunk to give a shit, it was kind of endearing, sucking on the tongue that gave a tentative nudge against his own, earning a soft tenor moan that filled Chris' ears from all the squeaking of bodies wrestling together and feet dancing together when he was trying to escape, and instead slaking all that distraction he'd wanted and pouring it into him until the dull buzz of the elevator doors intruded on their moment; alerting him, releasing the kid abruptly._

_The sudden loss of the pillar of body holding him up and Piers stumbled to the ground from the immediate loss, falling precariously to his knees. "Chris wait!" His plea caused the burly soldier to stop, turning on his heels and pulling Piers by his hair until he could look down on him properly, glowering._

_"Call me captain when you're on your knees boy." The younger man nodded frantically, wrenched to his feet by the strands of his damp hair and thrown forward, stumbling over himself hoping to catch that elusive balance. "Remember this is your interview, keep to the fucking formalities kid." Digging around for his access key to the hotel room, Chris squinted at each of the numbers on the door, snorting at each one respectively and swearing the longer it took him to examine each one until they reached their destination, bleeping the key card into its place in the slot and throwing his soaked jacket immediately on the floor inside. It wasn't until he was half undressed in the door way that he realized that the lithe little applicant hadn't drawn inside with him, swallowing and eyes going everywhere but inside. "Get your ass in there by the count of three or I'm going to make sure you never make it in any department!" The snarl earned him small cant of the head, dropping it downward until hazel eyes were examining every fiber of the carpet in the hallway outside, Chris impatiently holding the door open without a jacket or shirt, just dog tags hanging down around his neck and down to dangle against his clammy body, still wet from the rain, massive and imposing. Chris hoisted the bottle of vodka, still watching his consort staring at his shoes. "One." Taking a swig, Chris snorted, watching him start itching in his own skin just standing there. "Fuck this." Snatching out, Chris gripped the soaking clothing clinging to Piers' body and plucking him out of the hallway, heaving that smaller body into the room, forcing the bottle to the mouth again until his clothing was soaked with a mix of vodka and rain water, chucking the bottle to smash against the wall, Piers sputtering and gagging cut off with Chris' mouth again, one hand gripping the back of his neck, and the other instantly gripping between legs that had been struggling, groaning into that pouted mouth as he rubbed and massaged roughly earning whimpered noises, muffled by course facial hair teeth, biting down on those tiers until all struggling stopped and both nimble hands fumbling for someplace to put themselves, found Chris' biceps and squeezed, both drunk. Chris removed his hand only briefly to jam it down Piers' rain soaked jeans, taking a hand full of him. "There we go, loosen up boy. Moan pretty for me you little whore."_

_Words were at a complete loss, Chris using his other hand to tear open his own pants, forcing them down his hips one handed until he peeled wet clothing down his colossal thighs until his stiffening erection sprung free giving a kick as Piers squirmed under his grip. "Now you're getting it. Came to throw yourself at my feet, you're doing this all wrong." Chris smirked his eyes narrowing at the pretty little sight before him, yanking free his hand, rough enough to earn a yelp, driving him to his knees before him, gripping his cock in one hand and forcing Piers face forward. Chris smirked, watching those young lips part and press a kiss to the head of his erection, looking up for approval. Chris snarled, forcing his face forward further those barely parted lips forced on him like the vodka bottle and the scotch before that, gagging on the size of him shoving passed those lips and burying himself in the heated cavern. "Suck." __Youthful cheeks pinched inward as they tried to accommodate to that huge girth in his mouth, A growl ripping and boiling from deep in the captain's chest escaped passed his gruff countenance, plunging into that humid warmth while unexperienced lips bobbed around his cock until there Chris was opening grimacing in pleasure, moving Piers head for him whenever he tried to pull back for a breath and fucking him until the sloppy noises of saliva and precum being lapped and suckled off his cock made the man moan out an incoherent mixture of profanities that hit younger ears and making him hum and moan himself around Chris' thick pulsing cock, a tongue darting along the underside of him and laving the vein throbbing in his mouth. "That's right earn that promotion pretty boy. Such fucking potential, you'll make a good little slut some day." _

_There was a stifled moan around that piece of meat openly gagging his playmate, youthful hands shoving him backward onto his heels, the young man swallowed, hazel eyes lewdly craving Chris' attention, swollen lips pulling curled at the corners of his mouth, joining the saliva and clear fluid that had built up in his mouth, swallowing it down, pleased to see that look on Chris' face that said he was getting satisfaction from those inexperienced touches and sucks. Those eyes were captivating, all the alcohol, promises, went straight to his head, orbs fluttering lazily hoping to satisfy. "You taste like gunpowder captain... so good."_

_Practically leaking precum from the greedy hunger that consumed Chris, those lusty words jumped straight to that snake in his loins. Hands winding immediately into to the shirt covering his chest to be jerked up to his feet, blush and rose covering young features, gulping for air, in shock. Instantaneously, Chris grabbed Piers by the front of his face with one hand, shoving him backward slamming his body backward to bounce off the mattress from the forcec; over the bed and flipping him over and jerking those tight fitting pants down over his thighs, exposing his ass. "Time to prove your medal soldier." _

_"Wai... wait wait!"_

_One hand on his cock and the other keeping struggling hands hoisted over his head, Chris jammed inside that tight entrance in one intrusive thrust, the cry issued echoing off the walls._

* * *

"You... you did _what_?!"


	7. The Truth is Out There

**Sorry for the HUGE absence on this one, but I've been turning this over in my head and its a biiiiitttt disjointed, but I hope you like!**

* * *

****"I remember Piers. Please just... stop this. Isn't that what you wanted? For me to remember?"

Chris reached, mind juggling all he possibilities of what would or could happen next and how to act though his massive body had been frozen by time. The scene laid before them was not one easily forgotten, by neither the B.S.A.A., nor those who had once hired the young sniper. He should have known easily, put together the pieces of their experiences together and the words that sultry, though hinting came completely unfettered until every clue had been uncovered. First had been their meeting. His name. The first time they'd ever spoke at that conference celebration of horror back in the day, scotch in hand. the fluids in his youthful fingers when they'd met again had not been the same eerily smooth liquor that had burned away his remaining judgement then... However, it had been the principal. Never to turn down a drink from a pretty face, not one with those kinds of smooth features, eagerly looking up to him with anticipation, hopes, and dreams. It had been the story. He came to Chris on a night so similar, years later, with that pretty smile on his lips that made it impossible to focus. The name that was never important to him just as before which seemed to titillate the tawny haired younger man to no end as he struck short analogies for Chris, prolonging their engagement. He'd frozen Chris in these moments, his heart stopping along with the hypothermia of their situation.

"I want a lot more than that captain."

The knife digging so keenly into the flesh of their commanding general Wills, showed just how far they had come. Yes it started with the name, but it had continued. Piers gave him every opportunity to seize the moment while it lasted and it was because of Chris' ignorance that their present situation had escalated so. It was sharp. Clearly. Slicing like the caress of a lover along the carotid of the man motionless in his arms, held poised in perfect position to lock away any clear or sanctioned shots that might end their swaray before the contract was at its end. Not the one with the men who had hired the boy. But the one that had begun all those years ago when he'd stolen innocence from a young man and thrown him away like a cheap whore. He'd done everything the captain asked of him, and Chris seamlessly made him look the fool. Too many years of waiting for the man to keep a promise he had no intentions of keeping when he'd made it. Jill hadn't been wrong. He'd hit an all time low that night, and Piers was the victim, so here the roles had been reversed. There had been hopes among the B.S.A.A. that after this there would be no sign of the sniper and he would disappear into obscurity. Their job he did for their competitors was over, and that meant that under these circumstances there would be no reason for him to continue their uncomfortable relationship. After all. It took four years for him to show his face again after the incident. No one expected to see nor hear hide nor hair of the tawny haired sniper for at least another four. They had hoped anyway. When Chris heard that Piers had turned up again in Virginia, just outside a major military base Chris couldn't pass the opportunity by.

Like the fifteen year old had once done for him, Chris had chased this sniper across the whole of the world. Different countries and jobs, as compared to the fact that Piers had once been forced to try chasing his dreams with the B.S.A.A., only to have the man who claimed his childhood tell him he didn't have the stuff. Well this was the end and the ultimate testament to that moment. There was no endgame. He should have seen it coming. Soldiers are trained to think short term with missions, who can they save in those few seconds when the pin is pulled, and the grenade hits the deck. Piers had covered the real reasons behind his actions, with the long game, but in the end it always comes back to the natural instinct to act quickly. Dead agents, with clues to aid his memory. A contractor to fund the job and look the part of the evil dictator. All those little things that he'd done over the expanse of their time together all had been a giant smokescreen for what this really was. Revenge. He'd waited all that time for his captain to come through for him. A hero who wouldn't remember his face passed the few hours the laid together. Chris let the world down half a hundred times but as it seemed he could give a rat's ass right now just what the world thought. It was his fault the kid was here with him, within reaching distance but so far away as he eyed the man in uniform, fingertips slipping against the fabric of his cuff that jerked ruthlessly up against the old man's spine.

The lock was flawless. Arm behind the back, impairing it, while his python of a grip on the knife in hand, sharp enough to split hairs, scissored flesh with tiny nicks, threatening to decapitate in one flawless movement. One leg, clad in black and grey camo-fatigues, had been slipped precariously between the other's, half stepped in front of the general's right so with one minor attempt at escape would send his body headlessly hurtling to the ground at Chris' feet. It let a foul taste in the mouth. The same way he'd held the sniper against those plush, fluid stained sheets high class sheets. Forcing his face to the pillows with one arm passed fracturing up against his spine, Chris could remember all the silent tears that passed down those soft cheeks. He'd asked for it yes. Not in the sense that he'd asked for the beating he took, but after half a night of begging the captain to stop, the rest of the night had changed to rasped, hoarse begging for Chris to 'make him earn it.' He'd sure as hell earned it all right. There were reasons that this kid was pissed. That kid had been far under the age of consent. Under the age of anything. Chris ruined that boy and he knew it. And after all was said and done, and he'd shoved away all those memories so deep into his mind that he didn't remember those soft features, and coy glances; he punched the kid in the gut and took away his dream. How much more of a dick can one be? Fifteen was not an age to start forming attachment to a drunken captain like Chris; but it had happened, and with honesty on his side... he wasn't sorry the younger man had picked him. He was sorry for what had happened, but not for the meeting, and not for the strange intimacy they enjoyed.

"I remember Piers. Everything. What I did. What I promised to you. Just put down the knife." Such a futile thing to ask as enchanting hazel obs, flecked with gold caught his own chocolate browns the luster that sparkled there coming to light when full lips pulled to their sultry smile and passed to true happiness. It looked right on those features, even holding hostage a man who would be his death warrant. Acknowledgement, that was something a man like Piers' craved. To have the man that he'd fought for the attention of for so long look at him for what he was. At leasr, for what he had been. "Release the General, Piers. We'll talk about it."

"We can talk about it here captain. You really remember do you? I was starting to think that all that drinking had gone to your head. Granted it took you almost twenty agents before you figured it out. But I have to say, I'm not disappointed." Chris had heard about the dead members of their agency after Piers had escaped from B.S.A.A. custody, his own fault for having been led on so thoroughly; and for creating the person who had done it. Every one of those men had died in manners similar, their throat's slit with a coin crammed into their mouth, just under the tongue. They had come too far for all of this to be for naught. Too far for the snipers aiming to take him out whenever they had a clear shot to be called down. That was of course granted any of them could. Piers Nivans was the best sniper his eyes had ever had the chance to rest on, made clearer by the fact that he read them all like books, shifting strategically in ways that kept the line of fire impossible to take only one of them. He'd been asked to take his down. Jill demanded it.

'You can't afford to let him go Chris. After everything that's happened between the two of you, you are in too deep. He can unmake you Chris. You're entire reputation in the B.S.A.A. and he isn't afraid to use that. It would undo too much good to let him be taken captive.'

So Jill wanted Piers dead. This lithe, perfect, pretty little thing that held more strength in his pinky finger than most men in their line of work could muster in a lifetime, including himself. Jill was right though. He would have been lucky if they could sweep this all under the rug. If Jill could get Headquarters to accept her statement, and after perhaps a thousand more inquiries. She'd given him specific instructions, including staying out of this shit until it was 'handled.' Make certain their team didn't go down with his stupid mistakes and somehow make it all okay that he raped a fifteen year old kid. Yet, he had agreed. He let her handle these things because for all intents and purposes it wasn't his reputation on the line here, it was the B.S.A.A.'s and their livelihood. They were always under fire from the press and the government. In this case, they couldn't afford for any one of them to find out that their founding agent, their best captain, was a habitual drunk with a nasty propensity toward little kids. He knew that wasn't how it was, but if anything ever got out about this, that was how it would be played out. That was, until he'd done the research. After that, Jill's words were long gone. Was it alright to say the infatuation ran in both ways? Piers had latched onto stories of this hero and wanted in. Chris had been taken by him the moment they revisited one another at the conference. That saunter he had was pure poetry, along with his skills mimicking his own for marksmaship and C.Q.C. It wasn't healthy that was for sure, but he knew people like this, and he didn't want this to be over even though now that they were face to face he could see the intention passed those sharp orbs. That was if he couldn't talk him out of it. These hits against the high ranked officials of the B.S.A.A. that had occured after files had been 'mysteriously misplaced' in his office thanks to a certain someone, were not random. They couldn't be. And they weren't sanctioned by anyone. No one had hired the boy this time. So why do this if not just revenge? He'd figured that out once he figured out who he was. Hero worship manifested in many ways. But in a soldier as talented as this, it had reared its head in the manner of an outlaw. And the thing about outlaws though, was that when you scrapped beneath the surface you found a vigilante.

He'd dug deeper. The coin was the give away. Piers made a habit of giving things away in a simple fashion, tha he'd spent a year misreading as some kind of deep and mysterious angle, but he was in fact so simple. "They flipped right?" The smile on those full tiers changed immediately from adoration to pleasure, half lidded eyes locking on Chris. The struggling man in his arms was cussing, the snipers bellowing in his ears just to get him a clean shot from their coms, and Jill telling him to stop talking and shoot him. Sill they were staring at each other, the knife sliding ever deeper into the first layer of skin and into the next of that dermis, revealing a tiny ribbon of red. "You aren't some ruthless killer. You walked away from the army and got hired by the men who would give you the resources to clean up the B.S.A.A."

"What makes you think its not because I really just want to watch you suffer..., hm captain?"

"Because, you are a soldier. Guys like you don't turn bad over night, and well I know what I did was shit, it wasn't enough to break you. You aren't the kind who turns their back on a slight. It wasn't just me you were mad at, it was the B.S.A.A."

"Don't get me wrong captain I am furious with you. Fuck me once shame on you, fuck me twice shame on... oh that's right," Piers laughed just the slightest, shaking his head, "That's right, the second time never happened. No matter how many times you tried."

"SHOOT HIM REDFIELD!"

A jerk of the knife and the man in his arms silenced, quieted by the threat of another layer of skin kissing the sharpened edge. Chris glowered once, knowing full well that the man in his arms had a death sentence on his head one way or another. Each one of those men who had hired him, had been on the payroll for group who hired Piers. Sneaky little thing getting a look at his 'employers' while doing work for them. "Shut up Wills. Look Piers. Me and you can bicker all you want form now until the end of time, but I'm not stupid. You can see that can't you? You picked this place for a reason. You knew there was no way out Piers."

"Why should I want one? I did my job, even if your men wouldn't let me. You read my file captain. You remember me now. You know full well I don't need an escape from this place. I did what I set out to do with, or without the help of the B.S.A.A., and without you. I earned that right to call myself whatever I see fit and now that I've done my job, contract killer or not, I've done the right thing. Even if you people didn't. I tarnished my name for you. For what you stood for. But hell... at least I won't go out without you knowing it." Fingers gripped and tightened on the knife, wrist twisting ever the slightest as Piers took what looked like the first real breath he'd had in years. "You know I had wondered captain. If I was going to die without ever having someone know. But its how a sniper should go. Ten bullets all trained with my name on them."

"Wait! Piers. Come on think about it. What you've done-

"I have. I orchestrated the whole thing."

"I know Piers but I don't want you to... Just hold soldier." Chris swallowed. When that hostage fell, it would mean a dozen rifles resounding taking their pound of flesh as well.

"Soldier?" Piers face contorted with he term, swallowing just the slightest, that look from the interrogation room when Chris had hit him. A blow that knocked the wind out of him. "I haven't been a soldier in years. I wasn't good enough, or old enough, or-

"Goddamn it I'm your captain! You follow my orders! You should have been mine from the beginning but things happen, shit happens. Fall in line." Half lidded eyes opened fully, bow shaped tiers parting ever slightly before a shake of the head turned to an urgent nod; grip on that knife in his nimble hands loosening. "You are my soldier Piers. Under me. You will follow orders." Silence rung in the echo of Chris' overpowering baritone; that always cocky, smarmy tone cut out by massive command. He'd made a mistake before, but not again even if it cost him a lifetime of grief. They'd take care of the lies and deceit within the B.S.A.A., founded by a little help from a certain tawny haired villain, and he wasn't letting him go again. The shock had settled in over the young man as well as every person among them, orders to stand down as the knife at the man's neck and confusion spread, though it didn't stop Chris from speaking. "I'm a captain of the B.S.A.A. I founded the damn thing, what I say goes soldier, and what I say is, I looked at your file. I know what I've done, ad I know what you are doing. These men were guilty. I'm taking you back... in one piece and we are making this right. You are mine. Understand soldier?" The knife clattered to the ground, General Wills lunging forward with the orders to shoot, but the captain was in charge of this operation, and each stood down as he reached out, gripping that always just out of reach wrist for the first time, giving a lopsided grin.

"I... yes sir."

* * *

: )


End file.
